I pushed up and shimmied away from him, my skin sliding over silk, until my back met the headboard—cool wood making me cry out a gasp. He was on me in a blur. His knees kicked mine wide, thighs scooping beneath my ass until I was sitting on his lap, his cock pressing right there. Just the feel of him, that hardness notched exactly where I wanted it.

And I was lost.

Holy .... Holy hells-gate ...

He braced his hands against the tall headboard, tattooed forearms caging me in. He leaned close and I sucked in a sharp breath, reminding myself to take another, looking into those dark black eyes staring back at me, the want making the golden flecks glitter.

"The Lyon triplets? How cliché," I said. I was still bitter about the Lyons, but the feel of him right between my legs stole a little of my bite.

"Cliché, huh?" he replied, taunting me.

I cocked an eyebrow, dropped my voice low, and mimicked him. "I don't just break hearts sweetheart. I break headboards." I pursed my lips to the side and rolled my eyes at him.

His rich chuckle reverberated through my bones and enticed me to join him in laughter. Instead I chewed my bottom lip to hide the smile.

His hands wrapped around the edge of the headboard and shook it. "Seems sturdy enough," and he winked. "But they do tend to explode into matchsticks, when I really,"—he ground his hard, really hard cock, into me—"get going."

And then he eased us both upwards, rising on his knees, his pelvis thrusting up to bodily slide me up and down the headboard, the ends of my hair swaying and lifting with every downward glide. Cool wood warmed with the friction against my skin, and all the while his hard hot length throbbed against my core. "Good thing," I said a little breathlessly and a little shamelessly pushing back against him. "That's not my kink," I said, trying to own the ridiculousness coming out of my mouth. I'd read that line somewhere in one of my stories stored on my Kindle.

His smile got wider, a little wolfish, matching the hunger gleaming in his eyes. "Not your kink, huh? Just what is?" He wagged his thick eyebrows and drawled, "What do you say to some daddy-kink, baby girl?"

At that I couldn't stop the barking laugh from escaping.

His grin was delightful. "Or maybe I should flip you over my knee and give you an old-fashioned spanking with the flat of my palm?" His gaze trailed down my chest and stomach to my panties, my thighs spread obscenely wide, legs wrapped around his hips. "Better yet, how about I spank that pussy of yours for all the sass your smart-ass-mouth flings back at me? And before I could retort that maybe I'd spank his balls if he ever dared try that on me, he started to move, rocking into me, driving me up and down the headboard again and again and again.

Oh my gods...

I barely stifled the moan as my body threatened wickedly to melt against his. He angled his head so his mouth was an inch from mine as he huskily whispered, "Or maybe you'd prefer some Guy Candy. This particular Guy Candy, and only this flavor." He cocked a brow, stilling. "And baby girl, feel free to suck on me all night long."

Holy fucking Skalki ...

... the mouth on this guy.

His lips chased mine.

I turned my head aside so his lips brushed the corner of my mouth. "You haven't earned the right."

Watching him askance, I swore I saw hurt score through his eyes, gone a heartbeat later. A pang squeezed my chest, but I ignored it and I reminded myself he was a bastard.

A bastard with stupidly beautiful features.

And really, really good hands. He knew exactly what stoked the flames inside me. One hand let go of the headboard, brushing languidly up the side of my body, grazing the outer swell of my breasts, across my decolletage, thumb dipping into the vulnerable hollow between my collarbones before his hand trailed up my throat, fingers curling beneath the weight of my hair, and around the nape of my neck. The barest of feather-strokes of his lips against my hot skin, as he spoke. "Fair enough." And he kissed me, not on the lips, but across the cheek, "Here?" he asked. But he'd already pressed a kiss there. And the effect was like the tuning of a violin, the peg turning and tightening the string. A bow raised and ready to draw across my body and make me sing.

I pretended to think about it even though every inch of my body was screaming—yes!

And when he kissed tiny kisses along my jawline, scraped his teeth down my arched throat, nipped at my collarbone, my mind screamed—more!

He kissed, open-mouthed wet kisses, down my chest to my breasts encased in thin white fabric. He mouthed my nipples, teeth teasing the hard peaks, biting down, sucking on them through the fabric, until I was moving against him, writhing instinctively, my breath coming faster and faster, ragged pants and desperate moans for more filling the quiet room. Both his hands skimmed my body, remapping the territory he'd been denied for so long, and I didn't realize until the thin bra straps slipped down my shoulders, that he'd reached around and undone the clasp. His mouth moved to the center of the bra and he tugged gently by his teeth, drawing it free, letting it fall between us.

Graysen's warm, calloused hands slid behind my back once more, fingers crossing my spine as he clasped me tight against him. My breasts, nipples aching and throbbing for more attention were crushed against the hard curve of his pecs as he walked us backward on his knees. He lowered me to the midnight-blue sheets, the material cool against my heated flesh. My legs unhooked from his hips, feet braced against the mattress either side of his muscular thighs. He rocked back to his heels, drew his hands around my hips, fingers spread over the panties he loved so much. A blunt-tipped forefinger followed the line of the simple scalloped edge, and my secret muscles clenched. I was so godsdamned wet, and by his wholly male smile, he knew it and liked me this way. He didn't even need to stroke the outside of my core to feel just how soaked the fabric of my panties were.

He leaned down, pressed his face right at the apex between my thighs and inhaled. "I do this to you. I make you this wet. Me, little bird—only me." He scraped his teeth right up the center of me and I shrieked—holy, fucking hells-gate!—my hips bucking as his teeth glanced my clit. My breath came in shallow pants. Embarrassment at how quickly he'd set me alight scorched my cheeks, and my fingers bunched the silky blue sheets beneath me.

He sat back up, and this time he pulled my panties down gently, bending one knee, then the other to remove them. "Wouldn't want to ruin my favorite panties," he said with a cocky smirk.

He spread my legs on either side of him, sliding himself back so he was flat on his stomach. I pushed up onto my elbows just as his shoulders rounded, hooking his arms around my thighs, and dragged me closer. My gaze glanced over the frayed edges of the whip-marks that scarred every inch of his back, and for a moment heat burned behind my eyes as guilt surged up, toxic and devastating, at what I'd been responsible for, until—

His mouth descended in a chaste kiss on my inner thigh. I moaned, a delicious shiver rolling through me. I was still new to this, so when he crossed over to the other thigh, each press of his lips—higher and higher—every single inch of my skin lit up, sizzling and crackling, and my breath caught tight in my chest.

Too much—too much.

And he still hadn't touched me right there where I was burning up in need for him.

My elbows wobbled and I gave in, sinking back to lie flat against the mattress.

"Elbows," he demanded.

I arched an eyebrow, raising my head to glare at him. The prick was bossing me around again.

A sharp look demanded obedience, reinforced with a flick of the tip of his tongue on my clit ... and gods ... a garbled cry exploded from me and I almost came right there and then.

I gasped for breath, levered up by my elbows and focused on him between my thighs. Low golden light burnished his raven black hair and danced along the planes of his cheeks, long thick lashes framed eyes staring at me with hunger and daring me to look away. "I want you to watch me as I fuck you with my tongue," he growled. "Because this pussy, little bird, is mine."

His tongue plunged inside me without ceremony.

And I lost it on the first lash of his tongue.

The brutal acknowledgment at how undeniable it was, how wrong and right it felt to be at the mercy of his skillful touch, sank through me just as fire erupted. Fire that used to dance along my fingertips at will, but now was lost to me, and instead was inside my blood, a roaring flash-fire obliterating every coherent thought in my head—and I ignited.

My elbows collapsed beneath me and I fell flat on my back, the softness of the mattress cushioning me, but in that moment I wouldn't have noticed if it were a bed of thorns. Everything was narrowed on that tongue, rolling and flattening and spearing, those glancing teeth, the rough scrape of his cheeks on my thighs. The lips that sucked and grazed. And the obscene sound of him fucking me, the gruff, desire fueled groans he made while he feasted that were so sexual they were carnal.

A tsunami—high and deep and intense—crashed upon me, waves of pleasure driving me under. I was swept down, down, down, struggling against something so powerful I could barely draw breath. I kept repeating the same thing over and over, faster and faster, so it was just one slurry, messy word—ohmygodsohmygodsohmygods. My hips hunted his mouth. My hips pulled away. I didn't know what I wanted. I just knew I was there, right there, about to trip over the edge, as an all-consuming electric sensation worked its way through me. Everything clenched in my body as it surged like a shock-wave from my swollen, greedy clit, rippling through my core, my belly and trembling legs, and I couldn't ... I couldn't...

I pushed back, shoved a foot on Graysen's shoulder and wriggled free, panting but still aflame with need.

I was a mess—hair tangled and sticking to my sweaty body, still humming and coming down from the impending climax. I pressed a hand to my chest. Blew out a breath to gather myself together—I needed to decide what I wanted. What do I want? My gaze flicked to his. He was staring back, midnight-black brows slanted over eyes, still lust-drunk but now shining with confusion.

I wanted him.

But I wanted him on my terms.

His lips, glistening with my arousal and swollen from kissing and fucking me, parted and I knew he was about to ask—why? And before he could, I reached over and nudged his shoulder with my hand, still trembling with aftershocks, and he let me guide him as I pushed him sideways and down onto his back. I crawled closer to straddle my thighs over his hips. My sex spread wide, rubbing against the fabric of his boxer-briefs. The feel of the base of his cock, the perfect alignment of him between the apex of my thighs, made my clit tingle with want, and I barely stifled the moan clawing up my throat. Our gazes locked, both of us a mirror of desire, and I skimmed the backs of my fingers along his impressive length, iron hard and hot and punching back. He groaned, a raw sound, cursing low, fingers latching onto my waist and biting hard.

I can do this.

I want to do this.

I wanted to do something for me, to just let go and give in to self-need and satisfy the ache between my thighs.

Forget about Zrenyth's rope around my neck, and all the things to come.

Forget that he'd ripped my heart out.

Forget that I was lying to myself—that his cold, black heart did in fact beat in time with mine, and that it wasn't cold, it was warm and filled with something I didn't want to think about or acknowledge just yet.

I just wanted to disappear and simply feel.

He also needed to be taught a lesson.

I braced a hand beside his head, lowering my sweat-slick skin to whisper over his like a satin sheet. Tormented him by ghosting his mouth with my own, both of us sharing breath. My locks of moonlight slid over his tousled midnight hair. "You think you can tame me?" I reached between us and palmed his hard, throbbing length over the cotton, my thumb pressing lightly on the swollen tip of him, hidden beneath damp fabric. He grunted as his body bucked beneath mine—muscles tensed, jaw clenched tight, and eyes on fire.

Holy Zrenyth. Such power to hold over him, just one touch ... but wasn't that what he did to me?

"You think you can make me submit?" I asked softly, my tone threaded with steel.

His dark-eyed gaze flared with challenge.

I reared back and sat up straight, running my hands over his silken chest. He was breathing heavy, his entire focus on me, what I was doing, how I was touching him.

The wyrm branded into his flesh right above his heart—pounding in time with mine, beat for beat—felt rough against the softness of my palm. I raked my nails down his chest, across the ink spreading out in shades of fire, the fine words etched into his skin, the Sarrenskrit tales telling his story, down to that V, and the scattering of dark hair, and back up again.

"Why don't you remove your—"

And in one fast move, before I'd even registered what he intended to do, he bucked up—my whole body bounced, my breasts too—and he ripped his box-briefs from him, flinging the torn scraps aside.

I blinked.

His stupidly beautiful mouth curled into a wide-ass grin. "Better?"

His cock hovered above his stomach, slick tipped and pulsing between us.

I rose up on my knees. The moment my fingers encircled his girth, the ridge of veins against my palm, he sucked in a deep breath, every muscle clenching. I angled his cock upward to press between my thighs, nudging him inside.

Graysen's gorgeous eyes were glassy and he was focused on the place where we were joined.

I sank down, a tortured gasp escaping. It was so different to be the one in control. To be the one who plundered. My hands were splayed across his chest. His abs bunched as I sank down, down, down, letting him fill me, stretch me, carve a space inside only he could fill. The slick burn of friction was exquisite, until my ass hit his thighs and I was seated fully. He let out a deep, rough groan that sounded more like agony than pleasure. His broad hands tightening on my waist so hard I'd bruise. His cock flexed and my inner walls rippled in reply. I bit down hard on my bottom lip, a desperate moan escaping.

Gods ... gods this feels good ... so good.

A hand reached for me, fingers intending to stroke up the flat of my stomach to my breasts. I tut-tutted him, causing him to stop one fingertip away from my skin. His eyes shot to mine like a lightning strike. "No touching."

Darkness gleamed in their endless black depth—a predator sizing up his prey.

"Hands where I can see them, well away from me," I breathed.

His mouth parted—

"You'll do as I ask ... Unless," I rotated my hips experimentally—his raw moan floating in the air between us—and he squeezed his eyes shut. "You want me to stop."

His jaw ticked, and he parted those thick eyelashes and fixed his gaze on mine. He craved me, deeply. The fire of his thirst blazed between us, licking against my flesh, twisting a yearning for him too, deep inside my core.

I wasn't sure if he would. It would be so easy for him to refuse, to roll us over, pin me beneath him—take me whichever way he desired.

He lifted his arms slowly, ever so slowly, and crossed them at the wrist, resting them on the bed behind his head.

"Do not move a single muscle," I warned him.

I had never done anything like this before. Ever. This was a position we'd never explored, not even that night we'd shared after Evvie's engagement blessing.

I lifted up on my quivering thighs, briefly closing my eyes to him. I couldn't let him see how much I wanted this, missed this, needed him like this. I lowered slowly, letting gravity shape my descent, my hair spilling like silk over my body. My hands were spread over his abs, those valleys and peaks. His muscles rippled, and that feeling that sparked between us, lit up and swirled about us. I could almost feel the memory of aether sparking in their air, bubbling and glittering like effervescence, the way it used to when that thing, the dark power that resided in me came into contact with Graysen. His scent, that cedar, fresh and crisp like walking through a forest on a misty morning, filled my lungs. I was drowning in him. But he could never know, so I kept my gaze downcast, hiding in the shadows of my lashes.

"Again," he demanded.

And to teach him a lesson, I pushed up and clenched just the crown of him, taunting him cruelly with a slow roll of my hips, refusing to slide back down and sheath him completely.

He let loose a string of curses, so low and gruff, I barely recognized his voice.

Finally ... finally, I thrust down, savoring the friction, his size, and rocked my hips, moving languidly in small increments, tormenting him further. He was breathing hard, on edge, every inch of him held in check. He wanted to flip me over and fuck me the way he liked, rough and dirty and hard. I could feel it in him, the barely-leashed control he had over himself. He tensed, on the cusp of rolling us. The muscles in his thighs beneath me contracted, one leg slowly rising, a foot braced against the bed as he readied to take over.

I tsked him, just like he loved to tsk me, and shook my head—no—my hair fluttering with the movement.

His eyes were heavy lidded. Lust burned in their midnight depth. "Gods, Nelle, fuck." He couldn't touch me but his gaze could—caressing my skin, gliding over my breasts, plucking at my nipples, sliding down to where we were joined. His tongue licked his mouth and teeth indented his bottom lip—everything inside me melted, bones turning molten. He looked like he was tracking a gazelle over a grassy plain, wondering just how he was going to take me down, and what part of me he wanted to devour first once I was pinned beneath his jaws.

"Nelle," he growled, voice guttural. "For fucks sake let me touch you."

"You want me to stop?"

"I want to lick you here." He thrust his hips up, making his point, spearing me deeper. The angle his cock hit ... a moan slipped from my mouth. I fell forward, one hand snapping out to brace beside his head to stop me falling completely. Our faces were inches apart. His lips ghosted mine, eyes bright and fierce with dark promise. "When I get my hands on you, you're going to pay, right little bird? With my hands and teeth and tongue, on every single inch of you. You'll be begging for release."

I slowly licked his lip with the tip of my tongue, teasing a groan from him. His mouth hunted mine, but I pushed back up. Cupping the underside of my breasts, I teased my nipples with my thumbs, pinching the sensitive buds harder, enjoying the flare of pain that plaited through with pleasure, enhanced by the way he looked starved for me.

His tortured gaze dipped to my mouth, and fire coursed down my spine, curling my toes.

His hands clenched and opened, clenched and opened with nothing to anchor him. A shudder rippled through his body. His eyes, darker than a midnight winter sky, burned with a blistering intensity. 'That's it, little bird, take it," he breathed, his cock flexing and swelling. "Everything you want. Everything you need."

I slid one hand, down, down, down the flat of my stomach, drawing his attention there, right where my finger glanced over my swollen clit, throbbing against the little circles I made.

"Fuuuck, Nelle," he muttered, his expression darkening. A low growl. "Harder, little bird, rougher—the way I like to touch you." A sharp hissing intake of breath. "Look at me," he commanded. His eyes blazed, and made all kinds of promises.

My finger rubbed faster, harder, rougher, exactly how he like to play my body. Molten heat flowed outward from my pulsing clit, and aching pleasure twisted tighter and tighter.

It was Graysen's anguished groan as I clenched around him, and the silent vow that I'd be set alight under his touch, that he'd make every single part of my body burn and incinerate, that tipped me over the edge.

The orgasm roared through my blood, my body, crushed the air from my lungs—savage and stormy and going on forever—until I was clamping around him in exquisite pulses, gasping and trembling, falling onto his sweat-slick chest with starlight bursting behind my eyelids. A meteor shower scorching the atmosphere in white-hot streaks.